being free from us doesn't feel like freedom,
it feels like there was nothing there at all.
i don't think of it much, unless a reminder surfaces,
a song, a place, a fleeting scent in the air.
i tell myself it didn't matter, a tale of nothingness,
play it off like there was no real depth.
but deep down, i remember feeling heard,
a whisper of connection that lingers in the shadows.
now, i scold myself, disgusted by the past,
berating my heart for even letting you in.
yet secretly, i cherish the words you once told me,
tucked away in a corner i refuse to acknowledge.
i'm not attached anymore, the ties have dissolved,
the feelings that once ran deep are now faint echoes.
in the end, it feels like emptiness,
like a story that never really existed.
YOU ARE READING
poems
Şiirpoems i've written. i recommend reading from the bottom of the parts and working up to the first one. i promise they get better and more lengthy. the first few poems are rhyme schemes, the rest are free verse peoms. please don't take without credits...
